


Searching for the Supernatural in All the Wrong Places

by isabeau25



Series: Searching for the Supernatural in All the Wrong Places [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Voltronween 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8568052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeau25/pseuds/isabeau25
Summary: Keith, Pidge, and Hunk are sure ghosts exist. They just have to prove it. Their campus librarian may or may not be helpful to that end.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Ladydouji](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Douji/pseuds/Lady_Douji) for the title! Also thank you [Earthstar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/earthstar/pseuds/earthstar) for putting Voltronween together. The prompts were lots of fun.

“I think this is a bad idea,” Hunk complained nervously, “we should have at least scoped the place out during the day first.”

“You think everything is a bad idea,” Pidge scoffed, tucking the extra battery pack for her video camera in her pocket.

“We got the map,” Keith waved the paper in front of Hunk, “we know where we need to go.”

“But…” Hunk tried to snatch it from him so he could see, but Keith pulled it away from him.

“It will be fine,” Pidge insisted, “there’s been a lot of activity reported here, and we might actually catch something.”

“But what if we get lost, or trip over a tombstone, or fall into an open grave,” Hunk protested, “or get lost, trip over a tombstone, and then fall into an open grave, or…”

“Hi.”

The three college students jumped. Hunk screamed almost dropping his camera, Keith grabbed Pidge by the jacket and tried to jerk her behind him, and Pidge brandished her camera like a weapon, almost whacking Keith in the face with it.

Lance laughed at them, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“Mr. McClain!” Hunk panted, “don’t sneak up on us like that.”

“There wasn’t much sneaking involved kid,” Lance continued to laugh, “also, you can call me Lance; we’re not at school. Actually, you can call me Lance even when we are at school. I’m not a teacher.”

“What are you doing here?” Keith narrowed his eyes at him.

“I know people here,” Lance shrugged, hands still in his pockets.

The trio shifted uncomfortably. ‘Knowing’ someone in a cemetery usually only meant one thing.

“Sorry Lance,” Pidge looked properly contrite, “we didn’t mean to bother you. We’re just doing an investigation.”

“Investigation of what?” Lance raised an eyebrow at them.

The three launched into an excited explanation involving words like ectoplasm, AVP, astral bodies, magnetometer, parapsychology, and necromancy. They talked over each other, interrupting one another’s sentences and jumping in to add extra facts when they felt like someone had left them out.

Lance listened to them with a fondness usually reserved for hyperactive kittens.

“So you think the cemetery is haunted,” he concluded when they finally stopped talking.

“Well, yes,” Hunk nodded.

“We want to get evidence of it,” Pidge held up her video camera.

“Because it’s real,” Keith added defiantly.

“Right,” Lance grinned, “so what’s your plan? Are you just going to run around in random directions and hope a ghost jumps you?”

“Of course not,” Keith snapped, “we have…”

“We have a map!” Hunk hooked the strap of his camera over his neck and jostled Keith, who reluctantly pulling a wrinkled piece of paper out of his pocket.

Lance took it from him, snatching Pidge’s flashlight out of her hands so he could see it better. He glanced over it, a slight frown on his face as he saw the confusing scattering of red circles and black trails drawn on it.

“We’re you find this?” he asked.

“In the library,” Pidge told him.

“My library?” Lance raised an eyebrow at him.

“Technically, it’s not yours,” Keith grumbled, “it belongs to the university.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lance gave him an amused look.

“Yeah, it was in the section on local history,” Hunk supplied.

“It’s like fifty years outdated,” Lance handed the map back to Keith, “some of these paths don’t even exist anymore, and a few of these graves have actually been moved.”

“How do you know that?” Keith asked suspiciously.

“I told you,” Lance said with a shrug, “I know people here.”

“Well, we can still make it work,” Pidge snatched the map from Keith, “it can’t have changed that much.”

“But what if we get lost,” Hunk fretted, “I mean this place is huge, and there was that story about the high school kid who got lost and three weeks later they found his body near that one grave.”

“Yeah, we’re going to that grave,” Keith said.

“But…” Hunk protested.

“You want a guide?” Lance asked.

The trio turned to look at him in surprise.

“Well, I have been here a lot more recently than your map,” Lance pointed out, “also as member of staff I feel a small amount or responsibility for students’ safety. Very small.”

“I like that plan,” Hunk said quickly.

“I guess that’s better than getting lost,” Pidge admitted.

“You’re not going to chicken out on us are you?” Keith glared.

“Try me,” Lance grinned.

Hunk thought his teeth looked unusually sharp, but it was probably just the weird way the light from their flashlights created shadows.

“Jadie Madison’s grave,” Keith challenged, pointing to the spot on the map.

Hunk groaned, “do we really have to start there?”

“Murder fan are we?” Lance smirked, “this way.”

He lead them down the path towards an older part of the cemetery, apparently not bothered by the dark.

“It’s not so much that we’re fans of murder,” Pidge shook her head as they followed, flashlight on the ground in front of her so she didn’t trip over the uneven terrain.

“Not a fan of murder,” Hunk interjected, “really not a fan of murder.”

“It’s just that murderers…” Pidge kept going as if he hadn’t said anything.

“and the people they murder,” Keith put in.

“Tend to hang around after they die,” Pidge continued, “Humpleton theorizes that the negative energy experienced by the murderer while in the act of murder accumulates over their lifetime and isn’t as easily dissipated with death as positive energy.”

“The more people they murder, the more negative energy there is to not dissipate,” Keith said confidently.

“You know Humpleton thought that tadpoles were alien spawn,” Lance pointed out dryly.

“Well, no one’s perfect,” Pidge shrugged, then blinked, “wait. You’ve read Humpleton?”

“Librarian,” Lance reminded them.

“That doesn’t mean you’ve read every book,” Keith grumbled.

“I’m working on it,” Lance said evenly, “there are a lot of books in this world.”

“So is being a librarian like a degree? Or is it more like an apprenticeship?” Hunk rambled, “or is it one of those things where you get your degree in something completely unrelated, then just kind of fall into it? Like running an arcade.”

“Running a…” Lance gave him a puzzled look, then shook his head, “I have a masters in library science.”

“It’s a science?” Pidge’s interest perked, “like with math.”

“Well, there are numbers,” Lance offered.

“It’s not a real science,” Keith protested.

“Says the guy trying to prove ghosts exists with an outdated map,” Lance snorted.

“Outdated maps are the best kind for finding ghosts,” Keith insisted.

“Yeah, if you want to get lost doing it,” Lance said, coming to a stop, “and here we are. Jadie Madison, mistress of Tumbledown Street, master of poisons, and murderess.”

The tombstone was unremarkable. It was small, only a date and name on it, and not even the right name.

“Ohhh,” Hunk leaned in close, pointing his flashlight at it, “that’s the pseudonym she was buried under.”

“Are you sure this is the right one?” Pidge snatched the map from Keith.

“I think so…” Keith leaned over her shoulder, “that’s the grave that’s supposed to be next to her.”

While they squabbled over whether they were in the right place or not, Lance perched on a large tombstone, skimming the dark pathways around them. Jadie probably wasn’t home, but that didn’t mean no one else was.

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk weren’t the first ghost crazed college students Lance had run into. They might have been the most entertaining though. They certainly seemed the most likely to get into trouble. Hunk and Pidge were literal geniuses, and Keith had enough stubbornness to change the mind of a stampeding elephant.

Why they had decided to turn their formidable combined forces to ghost hunting was truly a mystery.

Something flickered between the trees, and Lance glanced at the trio, still snapping pictures and taking measurements with some kind of homemade device. It looked distinctly unsafe and like it might electrocute them if they held it wrong.

If it had been any other group, Lance might have let the specter give them a scare, but with this group it would probably just encourage them. The specter raised its empty eyes to give the college students a hungry stare, then spotted Lance, still perched casually on the tombstone.

Lance gave it a cheerful little wave, blue sparks dancing at his fingertips.

The specter immediately darted away, disappearing into the shadows.

“What was that?” Keith turned sharply, looking in the direction of the trees.

“Where?” Pidge whipped around, aiming her camera in the direction.

There was nothing there by the time they got their cameras pointed in the right direction, and Hunk breathed a sigh of relief while Pidge and Keith looked disappointed.

“A bit jumpy are we?” Lance smirked at them.

“It doesn’t look like there’s much here,” Hunk looked around nervously, “we should go to the next spot.”

“Just tell me where you want to go,” Lance hopped off the gravestone.

The next spot was a war memorial. It was at the center of the military section of the cemetery and actually was marked correctly on their map. Pidge almost got them lost twice though, insisting she saw a short cut on the map. One of her short cuts ended at a steep river bank, and Keith almost fell down it in the dark because he was looking for things making noise in the underbrush instead of where he was going. Lance had to grab him by the jacket and haul him back.

After that Lance insisted on leading and took them to where they wanted to go, grumbling under his breath about ‘short cuts make long delays’ to which Hunk happily responded ‘I love those books!’

The war memorial would be a bit trickier, but Lance didn’t foresee it being unmanageable.

“So there are supposed to be the remains of four unknown soldiers buried under the monument,” Pidge explained as she filmed.

Lance wasn’t sure if she was telling them or narrating for the sake of the camera, but he didn’t correct her. There were actually five soldiers buried there from two wars, and the trio’s sources were right. They did get restless sometimes.

Lance leaned against a tree and watched the college students poke around and take their readings. This wasn’t a very exciting spot for him, just sad. Men who had never made it home and really were still lost and fighting a war they didn’t know had ended.

He had actually looked into ways to help them, but not having their names complicated things, and this wasn’t really his area of expertise.

Something bumped against his leg, and Lance looked down to find a black cat rubbing against it and purring. He picked her up, cuddling her against his chest and scratching her chin.

“Careful, man,” Hunk pointed a flashlight in his direction, “don’t you know black cats are bad luck.”

“Also it might have diseases,” Pidge put in, adjusting her glasses.

“Black cats aren’t bad luck,” Lance rolled his eyes, “that’s just a vicious rumor started by witches so they could keep them all for themselves.”

“But it might have diseases,” Keith reiterated.

“Also fleas,” Lance said cheerfully and rubbed his cheek against the cat’s fur.

Maybe Shiro would let him keep her. He had kept that weird one eyed ferret he had found someone trying to give away outside the supermarket after all.

“You are so weird,” Keith wrinkled his nose at him.

Lance shrugged and continued pampering the happy cat in his arms.

He saw them creeping through the trees, while the three would-be ghost hunters turned back to their investigation. They were shadows in the shadows, wisp of darkness stalking an enemy who was long dead.

Lance frowned slightly and leaned down to whisper into the cat’s ear, then set her gently on the ground. She ran off into the trees and the shades turned to follow her.

 So maybe he wouldn’t be taking her straight home after all. She would come find him again if she wanted a home, and the soldiers wouldn’t be able to do her any harm.

“What was that!” Hunk dropped his flashlight, clutching Keith’s arm.

“Relax,” Lance laughed, “it was just the cat running off.”

Keith ran his flashlight over the trees suspiciously, but the cat had done her job well, and there was nothing there.

As they moved onto the next place they wanted to explore, Lance looked over his shoulder. One of the soldiers had made it back to the monument and was looking around nervously, gun clutched to his chest.

Lance frowned slightly, but they turned the bend in the path before anything could come of it.

The next three stops were uneventful, except for Keith almost getting himself decapitated by a branch because he was sure he had seen something and run into the dark after it, and Pidge nearly electrocuting herself on their homemade ghost detector.

They were nearing the last stop when something near the path growled.

Lance was a little irritated at not having noticed the musty smell sooner. He had been thoroughly distracted by Hunk making a very convincing argument for the Lebenhiezer theory, which Lance had always thought was bunk until Hunk has started rattling off his take on it.

That was not a dog smell though, and that was not a dog growling.

Keith shoved Pidge behind him, and Hunk latched onto her arm with a squeak that would have made Lance snicker in better circumstances, but not when a werewolf was stalking out of the bushes, eyes glowing and drooling hungrily.

“It’s rabid,” Hunk clutched Pidge tighter to him and reached out to grab Keith’s shoulder as if he could pull him to safety.

Lance slid easily between the trio and the wolf. It looked like a young one, and if Lance had to fight it, it wouldn’t be a problem, but he would rather not do that with an audience. Shiro would be upset if they had to leave town; he liked the teaching gig.

Lance curled back his lips and bared his teeth, his fangs growing longer. The werewolf’s ears pinned back, and it sunk low, still growling. He shifted forward slightly, and the werewolf took the hint, retreating in the underbrush with a snarl.

He would have to do something about that later maybe, but not right now.

He turned back to the trio to find them staring wide-eyed at where the wolf had been.

“Why did it just run away like that?” Keith asked.

“Most animals don’t really want to fight if they don’t have to,” Lance shrugged.

“It was rabid,” Hunk babbled, “I bet it was rabid. We better call animal control. What if it bites someone?”

“I’ll give them a call when I get home,” Lance assured him.

“Was that the right color eyeshine for a dog?” Pidge frowned.

“Who cares!” Keith and Hunk said together.

“So now that we know there are rabid animals in the cemetery, maybe you’d like to skip that last stop and go home,” Lance suggested, amused by their responses.

Also, yes, that had been the wrong color eyeshine, because it wasn’t actually eyeshine, but he wasn’t about to tell Pidge that. He was impressed she had noticed though.

“Yes!” Hunk said quickly, still holding onto Pidge’s arm.

“That’s probably not a bad idea,” Pidge admitted.

Keith hesitated, looking reluctant to give up without finishing, but finally he nodded, “I guess we can come back another night for the last spot.”

The walk to Hunk’s car was uneventful, and Lance turned down the offer of a ride back to campus. He could walk home from here and being shoved in the back seat with all the ghost hunting equipment didn’t seem worth the discomfort.

Also, he should probably do something about the werewolf.

He waited until the car had turned the corner before heading back towards the cemetery. He found Shiro leaning against the gate, looking rather smug.

“You really have to stop doing this,” Shiro straightened as Lance approached him.

“Well, what did you think I was going to do?” Lance shrugged, “let them get eaten by a werewolf.”

“He was a scrawny little guy,” Shiro grinned, his fangs flashing, “it was only his second moon. I gave him a good talking to.”

“Well, you are good at lecturing people,” Lance snickered.

“Why are you so much trouble?” Shiro dropped an arm around Lance’s shoulders, dragging him against his side, “you’re going to get us caught if you keep doing things like this. Those three are smart.”

“They’re looking for ghosts, not vampires,” Lance scoffed, “and unless we suddenly start sparkling in the sunlight, I don’t think we have anything to worry about on that front.”

“Still Lance, it’s not safe…”

A dainty meow interrupted him, and they both looked down to find the black cat winding between their legs.

“There you are,” Lance scooped her up, cuddling her against his chest, “I was wondering if you were going to come back.”

She rubbed her head under Lance’s chin and purred contently.

“So I found us a new cat,” Lance grinned at Shiro.

“Really?” Shiro sighed and reached out to scratch her chin.

“Look at how cute she is,” Lance held her up so her nose was practically touching Shiro’s, “she’s even cuter then a one eyed ferret.”

“I miss that ferret,” Shiro pushed the cat back into Lance’s arms and stroked her ears.

“It’s been like 20 years,” Lance shook his head.

“Pete was a great pet,” Shiro protested.

“You spent six years looking like a wild animal had nested in your hair,” Lance rolled his eyes.

“Just give her a flea bath before you bring her inside,” Shiro gave Lance a little shove to get him walking in the direction of home.

“I have to pick a name for her,” Lance continued to cuddle her as they walked.

“Just call her Black,” Shiro shrugged.

“This is why you’re not allowed to name things,” Lance snorted.

“That is a perfectly respectable name,” Shiro insisted, “it fits her.”

“You teach English lit, and you don’t have a creative bone in your body,” Lance shook his head, “how is that possible?”

“Well, what are you going to call her then?” Shiro asked.

Lance thought about it as they walked, coming to a decision as they reached the front of their apartment building, “Sayda.”

“You’re naming the black cat ‘lucky’,” Shiro snickered.

“Well, she is,” Lance shrugged, “she’s coming to live with me. That makes her exceptionally lucky.”

“You and your strays,” Shiro ruffled his hair and started up the stairs in front of him.

“I learned from the best,” Lance followed him cheerfully.

* * *

Hunk frowned as he flipped through the photos he had taken of the cemetery. They hadn’t really caught anything interesting in them, but as he looked through them, Hunk was realizing he hadn’t gotten a single shot of Mr. McClain.

It seemed a little weird, since he had been with them the whole time, and Hunk could have sworn he had been in frame on at least a few of the shots he had taken, but he wasn’t in any of them.

It was probably nothing, but Hunk couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about it. It seemed silly to say anything to Keith and Pidge about it, but maybe Hunk would just have to bring his camera to the library with him tomorrow.

It never hurt to practice after all.


End file.
